Bella la Belle
by The Black Doll
Summary: Bella, now a vampire, moves to Paris and takes to the stage: a kind of Dita von Teeth, as it were. The Volturi aren't happy, and tell Edward to sort her out. Hard M, and takes the piss out of 'Twilight'. AND NOW THERE'S A SEQUEL! 'Bella Triumphans'.


Bella la Belle

Edward Cullen was perturbed. He had been summoned by the Volturi, which was never a good thing, as generally when they summoned you it meant you had committed some terribly bad breach of the vampire code, and they were about to prejudicially terminate you in a very public way. Which he wasn't looking forward to. He had expected that he would have millennia ahead of him to be generally moody and romantic, and specifically to wonder exactly what he had done wrong to make Bella Swan leave him like that, taking off for foreign parts. But now that expectation of millennia of brooding over how everything was Bella's fault was dashed by this summons. And apart from anything else, he wasn't aware of having done anything to violate the vampire code. Okay, he had accidentally turned Bella into a vampire, but that wasn't his fault, as she had done it while he was asleep and without his knowledge, and he would have done his best to stop her, in as far as he had ever managed to stop Bella from doing something she had set her mind to, if he had been awake at the time. But anyway, that was scarcely a major breach. Or at least, he hoped it wasn't. And hence, as he arrived in Volterra, their base, he was perturbed.

He was no less perturbed when an underling summoned him to enter into the presence of Aro, Marcus and Caius, the leaders of the Volturi, to stand before them as they sat on their thrones.

'So, Edward Cullen,' said Aro, 'You have taken it upon yourself to create a new vampire.'

'Well, yes,' said Edward, 'But it was kind of an accident.' The three leaders of the Volturi shook their heads and tutted. Aro continued,

'Accident or no, a new vampire has been created.'

'And only we can do that,' said Marcus. Aro turned his censorious gaze from Edward to his colleague and said,

'No, actually, anybody can do it, but we must be . . . consulted.'

'We like being consulted,' said Gaius happily. There didn't seem to be anything to say to this, so Aro, after a brief embarrassed pause, turned back to looking down his nose at Edward and said,

'And if we are consulted we always warn the person proposing to create the new vampire that they must consider the consequences.' Gaius piped up again:

'Consequences? Are we going to play consequences? I love games.' Aro sighed and dug out a brightly coloured book from under his throne, saying to Marcus,

'Give him this will you?' Marcus handed it to Gaius, saying,

'Here you are Gaius, now you know you enjoy looking at the pretty animals. Look, there's a picture of a bear. Isn't it big?' and so on and so forth, with Gaius oohing and aahing at appropriate moments, while Aro continued his dressing down of Edward.

'And,' he said, 'In this case the consequences are not good.'

'Not good?' echoed Edward, nervously.

'Not good,' repeated Aro. 'This Bella Swan, whom you allowed to get away from you, has moved to Paris, where she has become what I believe is known as a burlesque artiste.'

'Oh,' said Edward, as it was clear from Aro's manner that he was expected to say something. He couldn't think of anything to say save one thing, so, even though it was neither profound nor witty, he said it, i.e. 'What's a burlesque artiste?'

'We believe,' said Aro, 'That it is a woman who takes off her clothes in public in front of a paying audience.'

'Like a stripper,' said Marcus helpfully. Aro took issue:

'No, apparently not like a stripper. Apparently burlesque is considered to be art, while stripping . . . isn't.'

'But,' asked Caius, who, having been distracted from his book, had now taken it upon himself to rejoin the conversation, 'Why do people want to see women take their clothes off?'

'That, Caius,' said Aro, 'Is something that puzzles me also.' Edward remembered the several occasions when he had seen Bella naked and thought that perhaps he could understand why people might enjoy seeing a good-looking woman strip off, but he knew better than to correct one of the lords of the Volturi. Goodness knows what they would do if such a lowly vampire as he admitted to knowledge they were not privy to.

There was a brief, uncomfortable pause, while the four of them contemplated the idea of Bella taking her clothes off in public. Aro broke the silence, saying:

'We can't have vampires exposing themselves in public. And you can't get more exposing yourself in public than making people pay to see you take all your clothes off. In Paris. So something has to be done to stop this.'

'Yes, what if she started to sparkle in public?' said Marcus, followed immediately by Gaius who said,

'I'd like to go to Paris,' which Aro took as a lead for finally explaining to the befuddled Edward exactly what it was the Volturi had in mind for him,

'And that's what Mr Cullen here is going to do,' he said. Edward was now officially beyond befuddled; he was terminally confused.

'Why me?' he said,

'Because, Mr Cullen,' said Aro, 'This Bella Swan managed to turn herself while you slept the sleep of the just ejaculated. Now it may not have been your fault, but she is your responsibility, and so we are sending you to Paris to solve this problem of yours.'

'What do you mean by solve?' asked Edward. Aro steepled his hands and said,

'Stop her showing herself in public, persuade her to go back to Spoons or whatever you call that hell-hole you live in, cut her head off and cast her ashes to the four winds if necessary. Just make it stop. She performs at a theatre called the Casino de Paris, I believe. Bon voyage, Mr Cullen,' with which he turned his attention to a document passed to him by an underling. The interview was at an end.

'And send us a post-card, while you're at it,' added Caius.

A couple of days later, Edward stood outside the Casino de Paris, and saw the huge hoarding which advertised that within one could see 'Bella la Belle' nightly. Judging from the poster she took off all her clothes, which gave Edward a nasty turn as it reminded him of several occasions when Bella Swan, as she had been back then, took off _her_ clothes, generally just before demanding, imploring, pleading that he make love with her. But now she did it for an audience rather than her one true love. Edward felt bitterly that if only he had been better with words he could have come up with something very cutting and cynical about that transition, but as he was a tad on the inarticulate side he just had to feel cutting and cynical about it in a nebulous and inarticulate way. Feeling cutting and cynical he examined the other pictures outside the theatre. It appeared that, having taken off her clothes Bella la Belle did something very strange involving a giant cocktail glass. If he hadn't known better than to accept such insanity he would have thought she was bathing in it. Honestly, he thought to himself, who pays to see a very attractive, nearly naked young woman splash around in a giant cocktail glass? It just didn't make any sense. And then there was a photograph of her with a man! In her arms! Edward knew that wasn't right: if any man was in her arms it should be him. She had always said her was her only love, and here she was embracing strange men. It wasn't right, he thought. And why would strange men want to be embraced by a damp, nearly naked, very attractive young woman anyway? Surely they had better things to do with their time? Reflecting that he, due to his heightened senses and general all-round spiffiness as a result of being a vampire, had no need for such things, and could look down on the punters as the mere slaves to their sensual urges that they were, he advanced to the ticket office.

And this is where he ran into problems. He slapped down his credit card and demanded,

'Un, s'il vous plait,' but instead of the compliant issue of a ticket that he had expected, he received in return a barrage of very fast French. As he had already exhausted his Francophone knowledge he tried repeating himself, in case the ticket clerk was particularly dense. Unfortunately this provoked a further torrent in which the words 'fou', which he didn't understand, and 'idiot', which he did, seemed to feature rather heavily. Apparently the ticket clerk was calling him an idiot, which scarcely seemed fair. Or reasonable. After all, he wanted one ticket, and he had offered the means of payment. He considered repeating himself again, but he feared what the ticket clerk might call him next. So he just looked blank. With a very Gallic shrug, the ticket clerk muttered something about, 'les Americaines stupides' and then switched to basic English, having obviously decided that Edward was mentally defective,

'No seats tonight. You buy now, get seat in three weeks. Understand?' Edward understood, but wasn't happy. He was going to have to spend three weeks in this hell-hole, this place where there was absolutely nothing to titivate the interest of a cultivated vampire? Really, he couldn't imagine what Bella found in the place to have made her decide to live here. He decided to protest.

'But you must have one seat? A return perhaps?'

'Ah no,' said the ticket clerk, obviously relieved that Edward had managed to produce a coherent sentence, 'Miss Bella, she is the sensation, so no tickets from three weeks. You want?' Now Edward didn't want to spend three weeks in Paris – three minutes had been enough – but he had been given his task by the Volturi, and if fulfilling it meant spending three weeks in this cultural desert, then so be it, so he proffered his credit card and bought his ticket for three weeks hence.

Let us pass over the three weeks of agonised boredom that Edward spent in Paris, subsisting on steak tartare as the closest thing he could get to pure blood (and it wasn't a bad substitute), spending the days locked in his hotel room and the nights walking the mean streets. The hotel concierge, taking pity on him, suggested he might like to visit the Louvre, but he put her to shame by asking what there could possibly be to appeal to a sophisticated man of culture such as himself in a bunch of old stones and paintings. After that she left him alone.

So, three weeks passed with glacial slowness. And then he returned to the Casino de Paris, having made sure to take his ticket with him. This time there was no trouble, and he was ushered to his seat by a deferential attendant (apparently the ticket clerk had taken advantage of his confusion to sell him one of the most expensive seats in the house). As he sat down, the curtain went up on what was clearly the introductory number, in which a fresh-faced, pretty young woman sang a song while gradually removing her clothing. It did nothing at all for Edward and, to his surprise, it didn't seem to do much for the audience. After all, he thought to himself, surely one young woman taking her clothes off was as interesting as another. But apparently not, for the act got only tepid applause when the essentially naked young woman took her bow and left the stage.

There was now a palpable tension in the theatre. It had been growing through the latter part of the warm-up act, but clearly had nothing to do with that act, but rather with anticipation of what was to come. And now, with consummate showmanship, the theatre manager kept the curtain down, and the audience waiting for a good quarter of an hour, and the end of which they were close to rioting, and even Edward felt a bit tense. And then the curtain rose on a darkened stage and suddenly s brilliant spot lighted, revealing a woman dressed in a corset, stockings, impossibly high heels and, for some reason, a top hat. She had the hat lowered over her face, but then in another sudden move, she looked up, exposing her face to the audience, and revealed, to Edward's great shock, for though he had known it intellectually, he had never fully internalised this fact, that Bella la Belle was in fact Bella Swan. And the audience rose as one to applaud her.

As he stared at her, dumbfounded, Edward found himself thinking, is this really the same girl I knew in Forks? Bella had been so charmingly naive, not bothering to make herself up, and yet here she was as Bella la Belle, with her mouth a scarlet bee-sting, and her face and body artfully made up to match. Bella Swan wore trainers or flats while now she stood in six-inch heels as if to the manor born. It never occurred to him that she might have desperately wanted to wear heels, but been too intimidated by the stultifying wholesomeness and ordinariness of Forks to dare express her desire. And as for that corset, Edward was at a loss as to how to react to a garment that apparently squeezed Bella's waist until it looked as if a strong wind might snap it. Why on Earth would Bella want to look like that? And again, it never occurred to him that perhaps she had always wanted to but had too fearful of the reaction of the dullards around her to actually express herself, whereas now, in the city of light, she could finally let her inner vixen out to play.

And play she did. In the first part of her act she strutted around the stage, striking seductive poses, while gradually removing her clothing. Such of it as there was, that is to say. So first came the hat, then one glove, then, after a time period calculated to bring her audience to the boil, the other. Then came the shoes, kicked off into the audience, each time to an almost animal surge of applause, making at least two people very happy (that is, assuming the heel didn't brain them). And then the stockings, peeled off with immense care and exactitude, and so slowly as to, each time bring the audience to an almost orgasmic climax by the time the garment was discarded.

Now Edward wasn't a habitual attended of burlesque shows, but he was sufficiently aware of what went on at them that he knew that young women took their clothes off. So thus far, though it had been a shock to see _Bella_ in a burlesque act, he hadn't seen her do anything that he hadn't expected of a burlesque artist, though it certainly surprised him to see his shy, inarticulate, former love doing it. However, what came next was a shock. Bella stood there, in her corset and gestured to the audience for silence. Then she spoke, and said,

'You all know what's coming next.' The audience roared, and she signed again for silence, 'But for the benefit of any first-timers, this is where I invite one of you up here for,' she simpered, which astounded Edward, because he wouldn't have thought Bella would know what a simper was, let alone how to do one. She continued, 'An intimate moment with me. So, who shall I choose?' At which the audience rose as one and started shouting and waving. Having let this go on for a couple of minutes, Bella signed for silence and said, 'I've made up my mind – you,' and languidly extended one arm, pointing with her index finger at one (un)lucky man in the audience. He having identified himself, to a sigh of discontent from the rest of the audience, she turned her hand and beckoned. He made his way up to the stage, where Bella took him by the hand and said, 'Are you ready?' He gulped and said,

'I'm ready.'

'Good,' she said, 'Let's do it.' She took the man in her arms and then, as Edward's eyes nearly popped out of his head, bit him in the neck. After a few seconds she released the man, who stood, swaying a little, with blood on his neck, while Bella stood with blood on her mouth, licking her lips hungrily. 'There,' she said, 'I now have part of you. And what do you say?' As the audience, which had been deathly silent during the preceding, roared, the man fell to one knee and started to babble, holding a hand to his heart. Bella, however, appeared uninterested, and signed to some attendants, who came on-stage and carried the man off with them.

Now, it need not be said, that Edward was stunned, shocked, horrified, and rather turned on by what had just happened. No wonder the Volturi wanted something done about this. Not only had Bella turned her back on ethical vampirism, at least if what he had just witnessed was anything to go by, but she was doing it in public, flaunting her vampirehood for the whole world to see, and making an act of it. And unfortunately for Edward's state of mind, flaunt is what she continued to do. For now, to the audience's immense approval, she began to unlace her corset, taking the task so carefully and slowly as to milk ever last drop of tension from it, until eventually even she couldn't delay any longer, and she threw the garment to one side, revealing herself naked apart from a minimal brief and some things, that Edward was simply too ignorant to know were called pasties, on her breasts. And now a curtain rose behind her, revealing, to a round of applause, a giant glass filled with bright red, venous, fluid. And as Edward tried to drag his eyes away from the spectacle, but couldn't because it was so horribly fascinating (as well as rather arousing), Bella climbed into the glass and proceeded to frolic in the red liquid. Yes, Edward thought, she is splashing about in what might, to all intents, be blood, and do they rush her and try to stake her, cut her head off, burn her and cast her ashes to the four winds? No, they scream in ecstasy and very nearly worship her for it. This must be stopped. But not just yet.

But there was one last outrage against Edward's sensibilities. Eventually Bella stopped splashing about and climbed out of the glass. She stood, statuesque, with one hand held above her head, as the audience applauded. Then the lights went out, and Edward assumed the show was over. But it wasn't, for one, very special, spot came on, lighting up Bella with what looked like sunlight. And she began to sparkle, which provoked an audience reaction so huge as to make their previous eruptions seem like mere approbation in comparison. Bella stood, unmoving for a few seconds, and then the spot went out and the act really was, finally over. And Edward sat in his seat unable to work out what to think. Despite the fact that this was disturbingly arousing, he agreed with the Volturi: in-your-face public celebration of vampirism was not on and should be prevented, but how? As he recalled, though he had rather not, Bella had been too much for him to handle when she was just Bella Swan. How on Earth could he bring to an end the phenomenon that was Bella la Belle?

He was still wondering how he was to fulfil the Volturi's command, when a theatre attendant came to his side, saying,

'Mr Edward Cullen? A note for you.' Edward too the note and suddenly he was overwhelmed with memories of his time with Bella, for it was scented with that infamous perfume 'Eau de Bella'. Unfolding it, he saw the words, written in a strong hand, 'Come to me in my dressing room' signed with a 'B'. Edward gulped. He knew that he would have to see Bella again if he was to carry out his commission, but he had expected it to be at his initiative, rather as (he winced somewhat at the analogy, but it was the obvious one) Dr van Helsing had encountered Count Dracula. Even the great doctor would have been puzzled if the Count had invited him round for tea, and likewise Edward was nonplussed. However, nobody could call Edward a coward, at least with any degree of veracity (they could call him stupid, egocentric and unsophisticated, but there is no law saying the brave people need to be clever, modest sophisticates) and so he stood up and let the attendant guide him backstage to a door with a large star upon it. The attendant knocked and a languid voice from within called out,

'Entrez.' The attendant opened the door and gestured to Edward, who, with considerable trepidation, went through.

He found himself in a luxuriously appointed room, more like a boudoir than a dressing room, though he wouldn't have known that, having never previously been in either, and there, in front of him was Bella, thankfully wearing a filmy wrap, which did nothing to hide her shape, but did at least hide her body, sitting in a well-stuffed arm-chair, with her legs stretched out in front of her, feet (now clad in high-heeled slippers) resting on a pouffe.

'Good evening, Edward,' she said, 'How nice of you to drop in like this.' She reached out to a table next to her chair, picked up a glass full of bright red liquid, which Edward assumed must be some kind of cocktail, took a sip and placed it back on the table. Meanwhile, Edward puzzled over how to respond, eventually saying,

'But you invited me to come here.' Bella frowned, as if unhappy at being reminded of his literal-mindedness, took another sip of her drink and said,

'Yes, dear, but you came to see my show. I knew you were in Paris, but I still think it's very sweet of you to come and see me. Did you like it?'

Now there was a lot to unpack here, such as how had Bella known that Edward was in Paris, and whether he had in fact liked, or was prepared to admit to liking, the show. But before he could get beyond this stage of enumeration, Bella said,

'But how remiss of me, of course you must have a drink.' She clapped her hands and a maid appeared from the hinterland of the dressing room. 'Clarice, une boisson pour Monsieur Cullen. Le sang.' The maid vanished, only to reappear almost so quickly that Edward scarcely had time to add the question of how on Earth Bella had managed to learn what he assumed was French to his internal list, carrying a tray on which was a glass of the red stuff, which she proffered to Edward. He protested,

'Oh, but Bella, you know I don't drink.'

'You drink this,' she said mysteriously, adding 'So cheers for our reunion.' She took her glass and seemed to expect Edward to do the same, so, trying to be polite, he did, only to freeze when he smelled what it contained. Bella looked concerned, 'But's what wrong, my dear?' she said solicitously, 'A little blood will never harm you. Not if taken in moderation, anyway.'

'But,' said Edward, too horrified almost to speak, 'This is human blood.'

'Yes dear, I know,' said Bella. 'I have it delivered by the central blood-bank once a week. Type AB rhesus negative – I find it has a better flavour than the other types, don't you know.' Edward ignored this:

'But we don't drink human blood.'

'Speak for yourself,' said Bella, 'I personally drink it all the time. I tried animal blood when I was a beginner in the ways of the vampire, and still assumed you knew what you were talking about, but I didn't like it that much, whereas human blood,' she sighed as if having a little orgasm, 'Ah, that's different. Such subtlety of flavour, such variety. Believe me, once you've tried it you'll never touch an animal again.'

'But I won't try it. It's wrong,' said Edward, sticking to what he thought he knew.

'Oh, but you will,' said Bella, 'Clarice, va't en!' The maid departed, leaving the accursed drink on a table by Edward, and Bella repeated, 'You will.' She stood up, letting the wrap fall from her shoulders, revealing herself as totally naked to the astonished Edward. She approached him and put a hand on his shoulder. 'Come,' she said, 'You'll do a little thing like that for me, won't you?'

'But it's wrong,' repeated Edward, trying hard to look at her face and not somewhat lower down,

'Oh yes, I know,' said Bella peevishly, 'Your tedious parents, and equally tedious siblings, and those bores the Volturi all think that we should be ashamed of our vampirism and hide it lest we frighten the horses. But I've found that I can revel in my vampire nature and people will pay good money to see me do it, and maybe give a little blood as well. And if I can do it, so can you, Edward.'

'What,' he said, rather puzzled, 'Take my clothes off in public?'

'No,' she said, as if to an idiot, 'I mean you can come out of the closet and be a vampire in public. People don't hate us any more. Why, I'm an open vampire and I've been to take coffee with the President of the Republic. He even offered me blood instead of coffee, which I thought was so considerate of him. But first,' she added, advancing on him, placing her arms around his neck, 'You just need to take one sip from that glass.'

'Never,' squeaked Edward, trying desperately hard to repel the strong field of sexual allure that he remembered, too late, she was capable of projecting, but it was too strong, and she was on him, kissing him ferociously while fumbling – what was she doing down there? And what was she doing – wow, that felt good, but surely it was wrong. Surely Baby Jesus cried if you did _that_. So long as she didn't stop. Oh she'd stopped. But only because she was edging him towards a chaise longue, which he noticed for the first time, up against one wall. He stepped backward and half sat, half fell onto it, while she placed herself on top of him and, between kisses, said,

'I still love you Edward Cullen. I don't know why, but I do. So let's try to make some more fireworks than last time, shall we.' And then she was on him, moving back and forth in a most disturbing way, arousing Edward to such a pitch that he cried out,

'Oh Bella, I'll do anything for you, just don't stop.'

'I don't intend to. This time I get to come as well.' With which she pumped away, transporting Edward to mental realms he had never known existed, but which were terribly exciting, and which made him feel a bit of a fool that for over eighty years he had been avoiding such an experience. He did, for a moment, feel jealous of the obvious experiences with other men that had raised Bella to such a pinnacle of expertise (he was too naive to think she might have learned something from other women), but given that the end result was this, this, this miracle, he was prepared to let jealousy go, given that she had said she loved him, which presumably meant she wanted to be with him, and wouldn't be satisfied with one quick, as it were, roll in the hay.

Eventually Bella climaxed, and as she lay, panting, on top of Edward, she said,

'So now will you do as I ask?' Edward was too drunk with afterglow to realise what was being done to him, so he, happy to affirm anything his beloved asked for, said,

'Oh yes.' She reached over, picked up the brimming glass and gave it to him, watching solemnly as he took a sip. He swallowed and suddenly it was like another orgasm, only (did he dare say it) even stronger than the one with Bella. She was right, this was the real thing: he could never go back to animals now. But if what Bella said was right, there was no need to.

Bella, who was still watching intently, a cross between a tiger stalking its prey and a doting mother watching her child's first steps, took a deep breath of relief, which reminded Edward of the other sort of orgasm enough for him to say,

'Now can we do it again?'

'Not yet,' said Bella. 'First I need to know, are you with me instead of the Volturi?'

'Oh yes, yes,' said Edward. 'I was never happy when they told me to kill you, and I, whoops.' Bella smiled,

'Ah, so that's why you're here. Well, there's been a change of plan.' She squirmed with, Edward assumed, pleasure (it certainly caused him a good deal of pleasure), and said, 'Now you've seen that one can be openly vampiric in sophisticated European society, you realise that we can defy the Volturi. In fact we can do better than that. We can destroy them, and set up ourselves as the lords of vampire-kind. Their time is over, the time of hiding, now is the time for open, in your face vampires, who earn respect by giving pleasure. I am accepted by Parisian society, and you can be too, so long as you do something useful, and don't just dedicate yourself to mooning about looking dramatic. So, you and I, we will destroy the Volturi and create a new order. But first, you must do one thing.'

'What's that?' asked Edward, nervous at the prospect of new tests.

'Kiss me.'


End file.
